


The Bet

by allie_bo_ballie



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-05
Updated: 2015-06-05
Packaged: 2018-04-03 02:03:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4082500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allie_bo_ballie/pseuds/allie_bo_ballie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU Teacher!Klaine MPREG; the one where they'd made a bet to see who could get pregnant first and Blaine forgets all about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Bet

**… … …**

“Hey, did you and Kurt get in a fight?”

Blaine's heart skips a beat as he pauses from tearing open a second packet of sugar over his fresh cup of coffee. “No? Uh, no.” He squints down at his hands, replaying the morning in his head (not that there's much to recollect when one hasn't been awake for a full two hours yet). He shoots a nervous stare at Sanam and then crinkles his nose after a moment. “No?”

Sanam shrugs at the unasked question burning bright in his eyes: 'Why? Oh dear God, why?' “Well, I don't know.” She repeats the exaggerated motion with her shoulders. “Okay, so. How unbelievable is this? I mean, really. Kurt was just in front of me at Starbucks and he didn't—”

He breathes out, relaxing instantly. “My Kurt was in a Starbucks? That _is_ unbelievable.”

Her gaze narrows down on him and Blaine's pretty sure she insults him in Russian under her breath. She continues, talking a mile a minute. “He did not notice my new Alexander McQueen scarf. Blaine, this cost me a month of rent and I'm actually kind of annoyed you haven't said anything about it yet. What's with you two? Anyway, he seemed off. Like, not himself? It was weird. Plus, he ordered steamed milk. Ew.”

Blaine frowns and looks away only because the more he thinks about it, the more he realizes how quiet his husband had been during breakfast. He'd excused the unusual abundance of silence due to the high pile of papers Kurt had hastily graded his way through while gobbling down blueberry pancakes. Blaine is pulled out of his thoughts by the wild gesturing Sanam's doing at the expensive scarf tied loosely around her neck. 

He rolls his eyes. “Yes,” he says quickly. “Yes, I see it. Very nice. Did Kurt say anything about—?”

“'Very _nice_ '?” she parrots, scoffing. 

“Wait,” he then has to huff. “Did you really assume Kurt and I _must_ be mad at each other because he didn't pay you any compliments on a new accessory?”

“Huh.” She tilts her head. “You mean, did I really show concern for the stability of your marriage because your spouse seemed distant? Excuse me for caring about your ridiculously hot husband.” Her sudden grin lessens the venom in her glare. She strokes her fingertip along a frayed edge of the colorful skull print scarf. “Come on, you wanna touch it?”

“Duh, that fabric is gorgeous and the color is _per_ fect; it really makes your eyes pop. But, uh, later. I've gotta...” He digs his cellphone out of his leather messenger bag and holds it up.

“Yeah, you'd better. Go find out what it is that you did. Or didn't do. Ugh, men.”

Blaine pulls a face at her totally unwarranted look of disgust as he texts Kurt a simple, “How's your day doing?” Grabbing his coffee, he sits down at an empty table. He casts an upward glance to make sure Sanam hasn't followed him to read over his shoulder. She has already moved on to show off her scarf to a teacher's aide. 

From Kurt: **How's my morning been in the 14-1/2 minutes since we saw each other, you mean?**

Blaine lightly bites at the inside of his lip. He loves this man.

To Kurt: **Yes.**

From Kurt: **Mm-hm, whatever. Hey, let's go straight home after last period :).**

What? Now, this is very unlike Kurt. 

To Kurt: **But glee club?**

From Kurt: **Blow it off, just this once. Please?**

In an instant, he feels sick with worry. Thanks to Sanam, he's thinking the worst. Anyway, Blaine can't say no.

To Kurt: **Okay, I'll see if Dinesh can cover for me.**

From Kurt: **Great! I will meet you at home, then.**

This time, he repeats a “what?” out loud. Confusion screws his mouth into a frown. Enough with the texting, he decides. Blaine tries to call Kurt, but it goes to voicemail after two rings. Kurt had actually declined his call. The absolute rudeness of such an act, why Blaine would _never_. He should've had them write that into their vows, the pinky-swear promise of not ever avoiding each others' phone calls. His phone vibrates once in his hand.

From Kurt: **Trust me :-***

Despite himself, Blaine melts a little at the emoticon. Kurt knows exactly how to make him smile, even when Blaine's stuck in a feeling of unsettling bewilderment. 

The warning bell for homeroom then rings, so Blaine only responds to his husband's adorableness with an _okay_. He's not any less curious or concerned about Kurt's odd behavior, but he does trust him—always.

“Always,” he mutters to himself as he tucks the iPhone away for now.

Unsurprisingly, Blaine can't stop thinking about his better half. He never has much of an opportunity to stop by Kurt's classroom for a quick visit on any given day; they teach different grades on separate floors in the skyscraper. He and Kurt didn't even share a lunch period. Stupid school policies. 

He runs into Sanam in the hallway between classes after he's helped a new student to the guidance counselor's office. She loops her arm through his. 

“So I was right,” she says in way of greeting. At his blank stare, she grunts. “About Kurt. Just saw him in the elevator! See, I told you something seemed off about him. There's a stomach bug going around. Actually, there's always some kind of bug going around. Ugh, kids.”

“You 'just' saw him in the elevator?” He checks his wristwatch for the time. 

“Um, yeah. He's leaving.”

“He's leaving? The school, now?”

She stomps a foot. “You guys are totally in a fight! How could you not know he's going home sick?”

“He went home sick?” Blaine doesn't wait for her reply; he pulls away, hurrying back to his classroom for his cellphone. Once again, Kurt's voicemail picks up after two rings. 

To Kurt: **Answer, please. Don't ignore my calls, Kurt.**

He waits a minute. Half a minute, really. It feels longer.

To Kurt: **What's wrong, are you okay?**

From Kurt: **Sorry, couldn't wait.**

Blaine groans out loud in frustration. Third time's the charm, though. This time, Kurt answers when Blaine calls him.

“Kurt, what is going on with you?” His angrily spoken words echo in the empty room and he feels a pang of guilt for raising his voice.

“I—I'm...”

“Kurt,” he tries again and lightens his tone. “Honey, talk to me. What's wrong?”

“Oh, Blaine. Nothing's wrong.” He can hear the smile in Kurt's voice and it does loosen the knot of dread that has formed in Blaine's gut. He slowly says it again. “Nothing is wrong.”

Blaine shakes his head. “If nothing is wrong, then why'd you go home sick?”

Kurt sighs, “I told you. I couldn't wait.”

“Why are you acting like this?” Blaine's fingers tighten around his phone. He sits down in his chair. “Couldn't wait for what?”

“Let's just say I think I won. Listen, I'm on the subway. I'll see you later, when you get home.”

“You won? Won what?” He then inquires hopefully, “The lottery?”

“Our bet, silly. Love ya!”

Kurt immediately disconnects the call. Blaine stares ahead and furrows his brow. “What bet?” he asks no one. 

No, really. What bet?

“What freakin' bet?!”

It isn't until Blaine is in the middle of an enthusiastic explanation about the weekly assignment (“Disco!” … and his entire class had groaned in unison. Felipe Paramo's head had fallen back as he dramatically bellowed, “Again?”) when he remembers The Bet. Ah, yes. Duh. His and Kurt's drunken bet from a year ago to see who could get pregnant first, a little competition Kurt had taken too seriously. Blaine always went along with it, of course; it's not like he never brought it up (sated and breathless— _I definitely had to have beaten you to it this time, God... My teeth are_ tingling, _Kurt_ ). It'd been fun; funny, a running gag, an inside joke between the two of them. If Kurt thinks he won that “bet,” it means...

Blaine chokes on air, his cheeks beet red. Coughing, he drops the dry erase marker he'd just been using to write on the whiteboard. 'DIS,' the board reads.

Kurt could be pregnant.

He feels dizzy, the giddiness sneaking up on him. A moment passes where he can't gather his thoughts. Blaine gasps for a breath and looks up to find twenty-one pairs of eyes watching him curiously. 

“B-R-B,” he mumbles (hip as ever, that Mr. Anderson). He ducks his head, stepping out into the hallway; Blaine needs a moment to compose himself. Well, that and to once again send a text message to his husband.

To Kurt: **Are you**

His hands are shaking. Of course they'd talked about wanting their own little 'mini-mes' someday soon—that's what had led up to The Bet. Over a bottle of wine, he and Kurt had decided that they were financially ready to start a beautiful family together and they would stop trying to _not_ have a baby. It'd been agreed that they would “take it easy” since they weren't in an real hurry at that time.

Blaine's in a hurry now. There's been a ticking in his head that won't go away. 

To Kurt: **Are you**

His brain and fingers have stopped cooperating, apparently.

No response from Kurt, his possibly pregnant husband. Not even a sarcastic _yes, I am Kurt_ one. Kurt does love to tease him. Something's distracting Kurt from his cellphone, Blaine decides. No way would Kurt miss such an opportunity to show his sass. He wonders if he should be worried, but a part of him is relieved. Blaine does NOT want to find out about a major life even through a text message. Even if it is a 'major life event' they had made light of and created a competition out of, oops. Anyway, yeah. Blaine wants to be there in person, with Kurt. Beside him, where he belongs. 

There's only a half hour of school left and Blaine has already bribed another teacher to cover his after-school club responsibilities. He inhales deeply, returning to his classroom. He plays it cool as he slips his blazer off. Blaine isn't dumb. If he tells everyone to stay put till the last bell rings, they'll all “sneak out” once he turns the corner.

He claps his hands (and at least half his students then clap theirs, thinking this is a start to a number). “Class dismissed! I won't tell if you don't? Don't get seen, guys. Be like ninjas, like musically-inclined ninjas. If anyone asks, say you're pacing out the hallway for our next impromptu performance.”

Felipe and his partner in crime both nudge at each other before gasping and clutching at their chest. “Oh,” one says to the other. “My. My oh my, Mr. Anderson wants us to _lie_?”

Blaine doesn't miss a beat. “Consider this extra time to prepare for the disco song you're going to perform for the class tomorrow.”

Felipe closes his eyes and freezes long enough to whine through his pouting lips. He receives several pats on the back from passing classmates. Everyone's gotten out of their seats by now.

“Don't worry, glee club's still on. Be nice to Mr. Patel, guys. And absolutely no pranks. Get your fingers out of your ears, Felipe. I know you heard me.”

“Heard who?” the teenager asks loudly as he steps into the hallway. “Heard what?”

Blaine actually hisses a shushing noise, which earns him a pleased snicker. With all his students now fleeing to their lockers, he shuts and locks the classroom door behind him. He lingers for half a moment and then his feet just take off as if they've got a mind of their own. The swooshing sound of his heartbeat in his ears sounds a lot like _hur ry, hur ry, hur ry_.

He will. He is.

His timing is all off so he opts for the bus instead of the subway. All Blaine can think once he hops on and sits down is _please_. Please, please, please.

Please be pregnant. 

He checks his phone; Kurt still hasn't answered any of Blaine's nonsensical texts. His face feels hot allover and Blaine does know what to think of that, of Kurt's silence.

What if Kurt's having second thoughts?

_No._

Blaine bows his head, eyes pinched shut as he rubs a hand over them.

Really, though. What if Kurt's freaking out right now because he's pregnant and doesn't want to be, doesn't want it?

_No._ He shakes his head, the motion jerky. _Stop_.

This is taking too long, even though the traffic is just as backed up as it usually is around this time—around any time. He can't stop tapping his toes against the floor of the super slow-moving bus or drumming his fingers along the tops and sides of his thighs. Blaine pulls a cord to get off at the next stop. He's still city blocks away from their brownstone townhouse, but it doesn't matter. Once his feet hit that hot pavement, he starts power-walking and then quickly neverminds that by breaking out into a jog. It's not long before Blaine's full-on running and sweating heavily.

He makes it home in record timing, kind of. It's not until he goes to find his keys when he realizes he left his messenger bag at school. You know, the messenger bag with his keys. And wallet, of course. Of fucking course, he seethes to himself. His day needs to get better soon. Still panting from his “adventure,” Blaine leans forward and bumps his sticky forehead into the front door. He sighs, his body sagging with it. He raises a fist and rolls his eyes as he knocks... and then knocks again after a long moment of freakin' standing there, hello!

Kurt does eventually come to the door. He opens it slowly, his guilty eyes half-lidded. Pink lines from a pillow are evident on one side of his face. His vest is unbuttoned and the undershirt is wrinkled. The corners of Blaine's mouth tug upward at the beautiful sight in front of him. 

“You fell asleep,” he states softly. 

Kurt smiles sheepishly, stepping aside to let his breathless husband into their home. “Blaine, I... I am so, so sorry.”

“Oh?” Blaine swallows thickly. His stomach drops straight down to his knees, heavy with a disappointment that stings. He almost falls over when Kurt continues the frantic babbling and Blaine realizes he's only apologizing for falling asleep on the couch. He touches Kurt's elbow, interrupting him.

Blaine needs to know, now. He can finally muster an unwavering, “Are you pregnant?”

“Maybe? I don't know.” Yeah. Definitely not the answer Blaine's expecting to hear and Kurt knows this, truly. He presses his lips together. His eyes are shining brightly, even if they're suddenly filling with tears. At least there isn't an ounce of regret in them. “I took four test,” he admits.

Blaine blinks. “And?”

“And they've been lined up in shot glasses on the counter in the bathroom for about three hours now,” Kurt murmurs hastily. He sighs, almost huffing, and glances up at the ceiling. “I haven't, um. Looked.”

“Kurt!” Blaine about sprints off in the direction of their bathroom, where the door has been shut.

“I know. Blaine, hold on. Hey.” Kurt's at his heels and reaches out to grab his upper arm and give it a gentle tug. “Hey,” he repeats. “I was waiting for you, mister!”

Blaine stills right where he is, though his fingers do curl loosely around the brass doorknob on their bathroom door. Behind him, Kurt kisses his shoulder.

“I want us to experience this together, whatever the results are.”

Nodding his head, Blaine relaxes against Kurt's chest. He's comforted by the warmth of Kurt's body and calmed by the strong arms that circle his waist.

“If I—I'm _not_ , then I want us to try. Like, really try. No jokes.”

Blaine sniffs and then agrees quietly, “No jokes.”

They linger there in silence, Blaine lost in thought as he enjoys his Kurt cocoon. He clears his throat, at last. His grip on the doorknob tightens.

“I'm ready,” he announces. “Kurt?”

Kurt starts, letting go of Blaine to step back. Blaine turns around and barks out a fond laugh at Kurt for covering his hands over his eyes.

“Honey,” he coons without a trace of condescension. He is immediately waved off.

“You do it, _you_ look. Blaine, don't laugh at me.”

Blaine takes an ill-timed moment to gaze lovingly at his husband. Kurt must get impatient; he parts his fingers for a peek and then glares at Blaine.

“I can't believe you.”

“I _can_ believe you, cutie.” Blaine's cheeks hurt from smiling so hard.

Kurt's head tilts back as he groans. “Oh, god. I feel like I'm going to barf.” He lowers his hands from his face and Blaine feels bad for teasing him when he catches the slight tremor in their movement. 

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

Blaine's mouth has long gone dry. He tries to wet his lips. “Kiss me first.”

He braces himself, expecting Kurt to start yelling or something else equally as aggressive. Instead, Kurt rushes at Blaine by way of a clumsy leap and kisses him square on the mouth. They steady each other, sharing nervous smiles.

Kurt leans away, his hands grasping Blaine's shoulders and nods his head. 

That's all Blaine needs. He moves quickly, banging through the bathroom door and nearly slipping on the turquoise tile. 

He stops. Kurt wasn't kidding about the perfectly lined up shot glasses. All the pregnancy tests are facing him, each one revealing the same result.

“Kurt?” he calls, his eyes skimming the tiny letters over and over again as if they might change or fade away. Blaine could feel the hot spill of tears on his cheeks. “You won,” he confirms. Kurt pops his head into the small room. 

“I won,” he breathes in shock.

Blaine's face crumples. “You won,” he chokes out, “And yet I feel like the winner.”

Kurt hugs him from behind again. “We're both winners.”

“We're going to have a _baby_ , Kurt. A baby. Baby!”

After a happy cry session, they wind up on their bed. Blaine laughs into Kurt's opened mouth; they're making out like lovers who have rejoined after a time apart than a couple who just, **just** found out they are expecting something special. As he appreciatively moves down Kurt's writhing body, they slow down and lose some urgency. Kurt pulls up on the hem of his shirt, giving Blaine access to trail more kisses down his bare belly. Blaine nuzzles the soft skin above the buckle on his belt.

Time passes. They continue to lie on top of disheveled covers, limbs intertwined. 

Kurt speaks up first, lifting his chin off the crown of Blaine's head. “Now what?”

Blaine has to laugh again. His cheek stays rested above Kurt's heart.

“We eat?” he guesses, unsure of the time. “We have a lot to talk about. Might as well get it done on a full stomach.” He says more to himself, “ _So_ much to figure out.”

“Yeah, like what's for dinner. I'm thinking pizza. All in favor say aye. Obviously I get two votes.”

Now Blaine sits up. He crosses his legs, unable to tame the wide stretch of his grin. “Obviously you do not. Kurt, you need to eat balanced meals.” He kind of frowns, thinking of what's left in their meager pantry since neither of their lazy asses had gone grocery shopping for the week yet. 

“Well, then put _broccoli_ on the pizza. Ta-da.”

Blaine strokes his fingertips down Kurt's flat belly, too distracted to argue. He pretends to think it over. It'll do, it will have to do—a celebratory dinner of _pizza_. He'll definitely add side salads to the order. “When you put it like that, it does sound very balanced.”

Kurt suddenly snorts, his hand darting up to cover Blaine's restless digits. He tugs his bottom lip into his mouth, already blinking back tears. The splotchy redness in his cheeks quickly returns. His fingers squeeze around Blaine's.

“I did it,” he whispers as it all sinks in again.

“ _I_ did it,” Blaine amends just to be cheeky. Kurt buys into it, his eyes rolling playfully.

“I am the clear winner here, hon.”

Blaine puffs his chest out. “I don't know about that one, dear.”

“Excuse you. I thought it was agreed we're both winners, anyway.”

He scrunches his nose, trying not to laugh as he blows Kurt off with a snooty, “I believe that was your wording.”

Kurt gasps. He reaches behind his head and—two words: Pillow fight.

“How dare you!” He swings the pillow above Blaine's head, his short bought of laughter sounding rather _evil_. 

“Watch the hair,” Blaine squeaks. He rolls onto his side and then shifts to lie prone, his arms protecting his head. “This is unfair,” he declares. “Unfair, Kurt. I wouldn't flick even a mini marshmallow at you right now. Come on, I surrender.” He's hit smack in the tush. Kurt hadn't held back on that one. “Hel _lo_ , I'm surrendering. I am waving a white flag. Oh, god. God, people are going to ask.” He hesitantly flips around with a grunt. “'Hey, what was your reaction to the big news?' 'Oh, you know. We were ecstatic; we made out and then had a pillow fight.'”

Lowering the pillow, Kurt blows up at hair that's lost its gravity-defying volume and has fallen into his eyes. He shrugs, nodding as he considers Blaine's point. “Yes,” he says easily, “That is about what I would expect from us. We'll have to have a toast over the pizza—to never letting each other down. You _had_ to have known I'd win this bet.”

Blaine shakes his head, not necessarily disagreeing. He grows quiet as he openly studies Kurt, who preens under Blaine's starry gaze. Blaine's not sure if it's because he **knows** now, but he swears there's an indescribable glow to Kurt's skin. Either way, something is different—about Kurt, obviously. But maybe something's already shifting between them, too. It feels right.

He clears his throat. “Eventually we'll have to stop referring to this pregnancy and our child as a bet.”

Kurt makes a noise that's close to a snort. He agrees, “Eventually.”

Blaine sits up slowly, only slightly wary of the pillow that Kurt is hugging to his chest. “Hey?”

In lieu of an inquiry, Kurt tilts his head.

“We're going to be somebody's _parents_ , Kurt.” The tears are back and his voice breaks, his heart pounding faster. “We are going to be _dads_.”

Kurt bites his wobbling bottom lip and hurries forward on his knees as Blaine opens his arms. He falls into them—him. 

“You're welcome,” he mumbles shakily into the side of Blaine's neck. Blaine laughs, tightening the embrace.

“No, no.” He clutches a hand to the slump of his husband's back. “You, you are welcome.” He presses a kiss into Kurt's hair and whispers more than once, “Thank you.”

The food does eventually get ordered for prompt delivery. They sit on the built-in banquette in the kitchen, sharing a plate of cheese and crackers as an appetizer. 

Blaine wipes the tiniest amount of crumbs from around his mouth; it's his attempt to act causal as he asks, “How are you feeling?” It's a question he knows Kurt is going to quickly get sick of hearing. 

“How am I feeling?” Kurt questions aloud to himself, his pensiveness exaggerated. He bites into a chunk of cheese. “I'm feeling lucky. How do you feel about a... part deux of this gamble?”

“Huh?” Blaine is sure of one thing: the smirk on Kurt's face means trouble.

“Oh, dear husband. I am merely pointing out there are 50/50 odds on the gender,” Kurt explains sweetly as ever. He can't hide the playfulness in his eyes. “What do you say?”

“What do I say?” Blaine laughs in disbelief. 

Kurt hums thoughtfully. “I do suppose, maybe this one's not as fair since I have the advantage. I mean, we have a girl. I can feel it in my gut, Blaine. A healthy baby girl. You know, because I'm pregnant.” His poker face can't last a second longer. It slips off, the crooked tilt of his lips softening into a smile. He picks up another piece of cheese and pops it into his mouth. 

“Oh dear, husband. I happen to have an intuition about this, too. FYI, what we have is a son.” He wets his lips, tasting the salt from the crackers. They're getting ahead of themselves, but Blaine can't stop. He watches Kurt's face, ready to make a sharp left turn. “Did you know my grandma was a twin?” He picks up a cracker, holding it between two fingers. “Yeah, my mom's mom.”

Kurt stops chewing. 

Blaine grins wickedly, tracing a fingertip along the edges of the cracker. “Hey, hey. That's another bet we could do. What is the possibility of multiples? They say the twins gene skips a generation. Oh, oh, and another bet: identical or fraternal? Let's see how far we can take this.”

“Uh, let's not. No freakin' way, Blaine Anderson. These hips are not insured to birth more than one baby per pregnancy.” His eyes were at their widest; Blaine had nearly blown a fuse. 

He shrugs. “What's done is done. The tests were all positive for something. Only time and ultrasounds will tell.” He bows his head, reaching in front of Kurt to caress the back of his hand across his belly. “Right, my wee ones?” he stage-whispers.

Kurt gives Blaine's arm a light push. In the time it takes Blaine to blink, Kurt's making his way out of the kitchen. “I'm calling your mother!” It sounds like a threat, yet Blaine lets loose a cackle.

“Still feeling lucky?” he calls after him. He sits back, sniffing as a new round of tears begin to form. A healthy baby, that's all he wants. Kurt had to only be a few weeks into this pregnancy, but Blaine could feel a heavy ache in his heart from the amount of love he already had for their child-to-be.

Phone in hand, Kurt re-appears in the doorway. His body sags against the doorframe. He nods once their gazes meet. “I am.”

Blaine smiles, his eyes following the steady movement of Kurt's hand—it rests in a protective cradle over his lean stomach. That ache in Blaine's chest grows deeper.

**… … …**


End file.
